“Huh. Not sure what you’d call it. It’s almost a robe. Kind of a kimono.”

But definitely not a coat.

“I was just about to say that.”

Holly?

“Mm-hmm?”

Who’s managing your band?

“Oh, you know who it is.”

I do. Get out here!

“Hey, buddy.”

Benjy, what the fuck?

“Why am I coming out of an interdimensional dryer?”

No, I don’t care about that. Are you stealing John Mayer’s toppermosts?

“Yes.”

Why?

“Money and spite.”

Those are pretty good reasons, actually. Why do you need money? I thought you had John’s power of attorney in that contract you made him sign.

“I did! That contract was ironclad.”

So?

“It turns out iron is not the strongest substance you can make a contract out of. His lawyers are made from titanium-carbon alloys and tipped with diamonds. They went through that contract like toilet paper. And not the good kind. Gas station toilet paper.”